Moving Forward
by fuzzyfelt
Summary: A little mish-mash of events between final chapter of Mockingjay and the Epilogue. Marriage, babies.
1. Chapter 1

**I've never written fanfiction before, so this is my first go. It's not very detailed, and largely predictable, I guess. If I have the time, patience and ability I'll likely delete this and conjure up a better one. Enjoy anyway.**

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_And the future hangs over our heads_  
_And it moves with each current event_  
_Until it falls all around like a cold steady rain_  
_Just stay in when it's looking this way_

Prim. The scene of her death replays continuously in my head, over and over and over again, until I wake up. Screaming, and dripping in sweat, I conjure up my list.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I survived the Hunger Games, twice. These games are no more, and Panem is a free republic..._

I begin to trail off. It isn't working. In a sort of daze, I tumble out of bed, traipse down the stairs and leave the house. The cold engulfs me, my teeth begin to chitter, but my feet are fixed on their destination. Peeta's house. Clumsily, I bang my fist on his front door. Upon opening the door, he raises an eyebrow. He knows why I'm here. I nod, he gestures me in and I follow.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Peeta queried.

"At this moment, not particularly, no," I reply, "Maybe in the morning."

He understands. That's what I love about Peeta, his ability to understand, or rather, his ability to understand _me_. Without another word, he leads me upstairs. I clamber into his bed, and it's not long before he's lying next to me, with his arms wrapped round me. I haven't felt this content in a long time, I miss this. Peeta is one of my few remaining close friends in this world, but am I truly in love with him? Does he still love me after all he's been through? Is this holding me just a friendly gesture? The conflicting emotions in my head cause me to twitch, which Peeta notices, so he pulls me closer. Knowing mulling over this will cause me to stay awake, I focus on my list once more.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I survived the Hunger Games, twice. These games are no more, and Panem is a free republic. Peeta is holding me. As long as Peeta is here, I am safe._

And with that, I am dead to the world.


	2. Chapter 2

These sleeping arrangements become a regular occurence. Most mornings, after breakfast, we would venture into the woods. It was an idea of mine to teach Peeta how to hunt, however I failed miserably. His feet were always too loud, and he could never seem to fire an arrow particularly well, his hand/eye coordination was poor. This would always result in myself laughing at him. "Perhaps you should stick to what you know best, bread boy," I smirk. He then wrestles me to the ground, where we fight, in a jovial manner.

Afterwards, we usually take our haul (or rather _my_ haul) over to Greasy Sae. The Hob had been rebuilt shortly after the war had ended. One afternoon, on our way back, we share a laugh at Greasy Sae's hysteria. We'd brought in six turkeys and two deer, she was way beyond delighted. On our way home, however, something catches my eye. The main portion of the town square had been cordoned off, there was contsruction work going on, so we usually had to navigate round it. This time, we were able to cross the square freely. A monument had been erected directly in the center, and I rushed over to it inquisitively. A tall marble pillar, with a hundred or so names down it. I trace the engraved golden lettering with my fingers. The names are of all those tributes from District 12 who participated in the games. Without warning, I fall to my knees and sob. A reassuring hand on my shoulder turns me round and brings me to my feet. Peeta pulls me close, and begins to comfort me. He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. The memorial is a mere mark of respect, but for me it will bring on a fresh wave of nightmares, along with extreme feelings of remorse and guilt. Peeta knows this. Rue, Glimmer's fate at the tracker jackers, Clove's attempt to murder me, Cato's brutal death, Mags, Wiress. The list is endless. In this state of fear and sorrow, it is in this moment I realise. I love Peeta Mellark. I think about how I felt when he was believed to be dead in both games, when he was tortured. Even the lighter moments, like when we were chuckling at Greasy Sae's expense, the nights we spent together.

"Peeta," I muffle.

"Katniss."

"Remember that time you were discussing with Gale who I would pick? Who I couldn't survive without. Well, in all honesty, I could survive without either of you."

Peeta looks at me like I've put a pistol to his head.

"The problem is though, I couldn't _live_ without you."


End file.
